And in Ishimura: A Lesson in History
by Kimberly T
Summary: Demona's back, and she's not at all happy. Even if some people are sure trying to help her, or think they are helping... 41st in the Life Goes On series.
1. Comparing Cages

_**LIFE GOES ON**_

**And in Ishimura: A Lesson in History**

By Kimberly T. (email: kimbertow AT yahoo etc.)

Standard Disclaimer: All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All original characters are the property of Kimberly T.

Author's note: It's been a long time since my series has visited Ishimura, so readers are highly encouraged to reread or reacquaint themselves with the story "And in Ishimura: Hot Baths, Hot _Sake_ and Hot Topics." This story directly follows events in that one, though a few weeks later.

Rated R for naughty bits about what some gargoyles euphemistically call 'flying solo'.

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**Part 1: Comparing Cages**

Was it actually possible to kill someone with kindness?

Dominique Destine, better known to some as the gargoyle Demona, pondered that question as she stared at the doll sitting on her prison cot.

Of course, being immortal thanks to the Weird Sisters' spell, for her it was rather a moot point. But still, she wondered what her answer would be if she wasn't immortal, and still enduring this… this… words still failed her. It really was the most bizarre experience in her life.

Being imprisoned was not a new experience for her. In the 1500's she'd been imprisoned in the catacombs beneath a cathedral in Castille. Thought an actual demon by the bishop of that church, after several exorcisms and more mundane forms of elimination—hanging, beheading, burning at the stake, shattering while in stone form—hadn't managed to 'banish her from the earthly plane', she had been walled up in the deepest part of the catacomb. That was how she'd discovered that she couldn't die of thirst or starvation, either, despite being little more than bones and skin by the time the thick irons bands binding her every limb had become loose enough and rusty enough for her to wriggle and/or break out of them, and dig her way to freedom. (While escaping, she'd discovered that humans do indeed taste like pork instead of chicken.)

There had been other occasions of captivity over the centuries: one of the Hunter line who had wanted to study her before killing her; that explorer in Africa who'd tried to bring her back as an exotic gift for his king. And of course the recent imprisonment she'd deliberately arranged, letting herself be captured by Goliath so she'd have ample opportunity to take genetic samples from the clan, and to try to persuade Angela to let go of her blind faith in Humanity.

None of those experiences had been pleasant, though in the last instance it had been good to be able to see her daughter on a regular basis… and it had been fun to sexually tease Brooklyn for a short while. Up until that impudent pup of a male had—_enough_ of reminiscing! None of what had happened to her in captivity before was anything like what she was experiencing now.

The differences had started to become apparent the very moment her punishment had begun. When Kai had declared that she would have her wings bound and sweep gravel for a full moon's worth of nights, the second-in-command Taiju had bound her wings… but paused and asked her through Yama if she could still wiggle them, because he was concerned about tying them too tightly. Such concern, for a gargoyle being punished for nearly killing someone? For a little while Demona had wondered if the clan really didn't value their humans that much after all, and were doing the punishment as a mere formality in order to keep peace between the species.

Then had come sunrise, and the daily transformation back to her hatefully soft and weak pink-skinned human form. Hiroshi had been handed her a plain gray yukata before she'd gone into the gatehouse to change, and had been waiting for her outside once the twice-daily agony was over. Whereupon he'd tied her hands together in front of her—with a thin white ribbon, that even an ordinary human could likely tear apart if she tried. And he'd informed her with a look of sternness softened by _sympathy_ in his eyes that it was time to go to the jail now… and that the Yugebe family, the humans who'd given her a bedroom in their home for her to use while sleeping during the day, had sent some of her bedding over to the prison to make her jail cell more comfortable.

She could have run; broken the ribbon and dashed for the city limits. She could have hidden in the forest outside the village, and when sunset came gotten aloft and away before the gargoyles could be informed of her escape. Demona was used to running and hiding, after centuries of escaping and outwitting the Hunters that she didn't kill outright; after centuries of leaving behind the ruins of clans, hopes and schemes.

But that ribbon, that thin white ribbon she could break so easily, and the way Hiroshi merely gestured for her to accompany him… The-the _trust _it showed, the trust they still had in her, even after what she had done… She kept her eyes focused on that thin white ribbon as she slowly walked to her prison.

The village's jail only had one cell, a room with bars and a cot and not much else. But the cot now had the same bedding the Dominique Destine had slept on the previous day… and a fistful of dandelions in a drinking glass next to the cell door. Yugebe Mikiko's work, perhaps?

She'd slept most of that first day away inside the prison walls, waking only shortly before sunset. Hiroshi had tied the ribbon on her wrists again and escorted her to the gatehouse of the temple, where the gargoyles perched during the day. There he'd removed the ribbon and ushered her inside, and closed the door. After the gargoyles had awoken and the agonies of her transformation were over for a few more hours, Taiju had opened the gatehouse door and beckoned for her to come out, and silently bound her wings to her body with the obi again. Only after the binding was completed had he informed her, with Yama translating, of the night's tasks that she was to accomplish as part of her punishment.

That became her routine, day after day and night after night: sleep most of the day away in the jail cell, then have her wings bound and spend the night doing menial labor. Most of the tasks involved sweeping gravel; the clan shed a lot of it, all over the roofs and courtyard. She was given other menial tasks as well; hauling water, washing floors inside the temple, cleaning screens, dusting and clearing cobwebs away.

She had a break from menial labor for three hours every night; from midnight until roughly three a.m., she sat down with Yama for more language and culture lessons. Yama taught her _Nihongo_, since she was supposedly just beginning to learn it, while she helped him with his English; he wanted to become as fluent in the language as Hiroshi, who had studied English for years in his youth.

A few other clan members would stop in to see her during 'lessons time', to exchange pleasantries—or try to, anyway. Most of the time they would simply say through Yama that they were glad to see she was enduring her discipline with honor, and that it would be over soon enough. And for some reason, Kado and Kawa both felt it necessary to assure her that once her punishment was over and her wings were freed, she would fly as well as she ever had with just a night or two of reconditioning.

Once the night was over and dawn approached, the gargoyles would take their perches while she slunk off to the gatehouse, where Hiroshi was always waiting. He would untie the obi for her before she went inside, where her prison yukata was waiting on a shelf for her; after transforming to human and dressing, he would tie her wrists with that little white ribbon again and escort her back to the jail.

Considering her past experiences in captivity, she could say without a doubt—not that she ever did, because no one ever thought to ask—that it was the most comfortable prison she'd ever been in. And the most popular; nearly every afternoon after she awoke, she had visitors. The schoolteacher came with picture books and a Japanese-English dictionary, to give her more lessons in speaking _Nihongo_. The Yugebe family came by to replace her bedding with freshly laundered sheets and inquire as to her health and comfort. And other villagers came by, too...

Even as a human, her ears were sharp, and people tended to be incautious when they thought she wouldn't understand them anyway. She'd overheard enough discussions to know that several of the villagers considered her attack on Jiro in the rookery to be a result of her "sutoresu"; that was the Japanese layman's term for what Americans called Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, or PTSD. She'd wanted to scoff at the term—how could she be afflicted with a weak-minded human problem? Even in human form, she was a _gargoyle_! A warrior, from the shell!

But when the village doctor had read aloud to Hiroshi and the village mayor from his medical manual, and Hiroshi had nodded sagely at several of the characteristics that were often associated with PTSD… Demona had been uncomfortably aware that a few—not all, definitely! But yes, a few of those human terms fit her too well. In particular the part about 'prone to violent outbursts'…

And the increased propensity for suicide. How many different ways had she tried to kill herself over the centuries, in her absolute blackest moments, before giving it up as impossible without Macbeth's 'assistance'? Hadn't she actually sought him out that night in Paris, two nights after witnessing the death of poor brave Valjean and his entire clan? If he'd struck to impale her with that pitchfork he'd grabbed from a hay cart, instead of just pinning her wing to the wall and then fleeing with those humans he'd been with…

The afternoon after the doctor and mayor had visited, she'd had another visitor; a very old man that Hiroshi had bowed to just as low as he'd bowed to the mayor. The old man had peered at her with eyes dimmed by cataracts, exchanged bows with her, then asked Hiroshi to translate his story:

"I am Deguchi Hyotaru. Many years ago, I and seven of my friends left this village to serve in the military, during the _Dainijitaisen_ Three died before it was over, in honorable combat on islands far from here. Another died when the Emperor surrendered; he committed seppuku with his fellow officers. Four of us came back.

"But the dying did not stop then. We were home less than a year before Asuhara Maseo died. He'd told me how he saw round-eyes in the shadows, and that his sleep was haunted by _oni_ who wore the faces of people he had seen die in his company, and sometimes people he had killed. I woke up one morning to find him in the village square with his ancestors' sword in his guts.

"Taganaka Saburo died more slowly, drowning in the beer and _sake_ he drank day after day; death came for him two years later. Saburo, who before the _Dainijitaisen_ had drunk _sake_ only on holidays, and had never beat his wife and child…

"To see much death is to be changed by it; scarred inside, like being cut by a spirit-blade. Some are scarred greatly, cut deeply; some, only a little. I am blessed by the gods; only sometimes is my sleep haunted, and it has been many years since I thought I heard the guns again.

"In my youth these things were not spoken of. One lived honorably and died well, and if one did not then it was not spoken of in public. But if keeping silent leads to people dying when it is not their time, then that silence is not honorable.

"Di-mono-san, I am told that you saw much death, when your clan in America was slaughtered by round-eyes. I think that for you the spirit-blade cut deeply, and that is why you attacked poor Jiro when you saw him playing Gojiro and pretending to attack the hatchlings; the scar on your spirit rose up and veiled your eyes, like it did sometimes with Asuhara Maseo.

"Everyone knows it can be difficult to live with scars crippling the body. Not many know it can be difficult to live with scars on the spirit, as well. But it can be done! I tell you all this because I do not want to see a gargoyle go the way of _seppuku_, or die in less honorable ways with the help of too much _sake_.

"If you respect this elderly human, Di-mono_-san_, then you will do as I request… and find ways to live with your scarred spirit. To remember that it sometimes veils your eyes and tricks your ears, and when you believe a threat is at hand, to act with patience and honor until you know you see and hear clearly. And to _live_, as honorably and as long as you can!"

Hiroshi had done his best to translate that into English, censoring it along the way to take out the old soldier's derogatory 'round-eyes' remarks. Mindful that she was not supposed to understand most of the original version, Demona had kept her face and body schooled to respectful attention without comprehension while he spoke. But given the Japanese habit of circumspection on uncomfortable subjects, his nearly direct plea for her to not commit suicide had been… oddly touching.

She still wasn't used to humans being able to do that; to arouse any other emotions in her besides contempt, hatred and rage.

When Hyotaru had finished speaking and Hiroshi had finished translating, she'd bowed to them both and told Hiroshi, "Tell him that he is a wise elder indeed, and I will remember and heed his words."

Hyotaru had bowed to her and Hiroshi in farewell and left, his pace slow but his back ramrod straight and his feet placed with military precision. After he'd left Hiroshi had gone to his desk to do some paperwork, leaving her to think on the old soldier's words until sunset neared and it was time for her to be escorted to the gatehouse.

The next day, she'd had another visitor, one that had jarred her to the core: Sakaguchi Jiro.

The last time she'd seen him, he'd been covered with blood and sprawled unconscious on an improvised stretcher, Sugi and Kusa hurrying him to the clan's infirmary while Malaquita and Sakaki still held her arms and wings pinned. And she hadn't really been focused on him at that moment, her attention caught by the looks of shock and horror in everyone else's faces as they stared at her. Cuarzo and the other rookery keepers Udo and Hisame had crouched and spread their wings wide so the crying hatchlings could hide under and behind the cover they provided… and it had been the hatchlings' eyes, staring at her with sheer horror when they dared to peek out at her at all, that had hurt her the most.

Later on, while lying prostrate on the gravel where she'd been flung to await the clan leader's judgment, she'd overheard Kado giving one of her guards a tally of the injuries she'd given the human. Three deep talon-punctures in his left thigh, from where one of her feet had clamped on as she'd pounced from behind. Fortunately, only fat and muscle had been punctured instead of arteries or major veins; relatively easy for the clan's surgeons to mend, though there was always a risk of infection. But his left arm and the left side of his face and scalp had been in far worse shape, from where her talons had sunk in and pulled, tearing skin, muscles and veins and even scraping bones while she'd been tilting his head to one side to further expose his neck. At least Malaquita had grabbed her before she could sink her fangs into the real target, Jiro's jugular artery…

And that afternoon he'd been brought into the jail, in a wheelchair pushed by his brother. Demona had overheard Hiroshi asking Jiro what the hell he was doing out of bed and why his brother had brought him, and Jiro's response—too low and mumbled for her to make out everything, but she'd thought he said something about having tried to see her the night before, and not been able. There had been more low-voiced words, and then Hiroshi had sighed loudly and agreed to bring him back to the jail cell.

A few moments later Hiroshi had come, pushing before him a wheelchair-bound person so covered in bandages that he would not have been recognized, except for his considerable girth; Jiro had the build of a sumo wrestler, though instead of fat-covered muscle it was mostly fat. Jiro's brother Nobuo had followed them in, but hung back by the door.

Hiroshi's face had been carefully expressionless. Demona had kept her face schooled to the same deliberate blankness, while she'd waited for Jiro to make the next move.

Over the centuries, rarely had any of her victims lived, and even more rarely had they confronted her again later. Almost all of those survivors had been Hunters, who had had the hunt turned on _them_ instead but managed to survive and escape through use of their many devices… though they never escaped her more than once. She'd killed Hunters aplenty, but since humans bred like rats, they'd always managed to spawn progeny before dying under her talons, progeny that would appear out of nowhere a decade or two later and continue plaguing her through the centuries.

That Maza slut who had stolen her Goliath's heart away had been the first person in ages to survive an attack, and the _**only **_one _ever_ to survive multiple attempts to kill her—how had the human survived that poison dart, anyway? And she even had some dim shadowy memory of fighting the bitch while in human form and being defeated, though that was ridiculous; it had to be just a fragment of a daymare that had been more vivid and memorable than usual.

But she knew well from those nights when the Maza slut had been her jailer in the Labyrinth how much the human hated her, even if she'd tried to mask it under cool professionalism. On those nights the whore had usually responded with stoic silence whenever Demona had flung her a verbal barb (there really hadn't been much else to do, and thinking up new insults had been a nice way to stave off boredom), but occasionally the human had let her true venomous nature show and given such nasty retorts that Demona would have ripped out her tongue for it, if only the bitch had come within reach.

Other than her fellow immortal Macbeth, a handful of Hunters and the Maza slut had been the only victims or human opponents that she could recall later confrontations with, in all her centuries of living. And the Maza bitch had been the only one to do so while she was behind bars. The only one, until Jiro…

She had wondered what Jiro would say or do. Considering the state he was in, trying to attack her through the bars would have been ridiculous, even if Hiroshi allowed it. She'd decided that he would settle for harsh words, which Hiroshi might or might not choose to translate for her. He would revile her and her ancestors too, since lineage was so important to humans in general and this culture in particular. The curses would almost certainly be accompanied by a foolish boast of how he could have handled her if she hadn't surprised him; that was typical of the human male ego. And of course there would be a few threats concerning what he would do to her once he was well again—and probably while she was in her weak human form; she'd seen over the centuries that human males were already predisposed to violence towards their own females.

She'd decided that there would be at least one mutilation threat and one rape threat, both thinly disguised just enough that Hiroshi would pretend not to notice them. And she'd wondered what other threats Jiro would come up with… would he be bold enough to threaten outright to kill her?

When Hiroshi had stopped pushing the wheelchair, Jiro had slowly and carefully stood up, and walked two painful steps to lean against the bars of the cell.

The bed was out of arm's reach of the cell bars. Demon had remained seated on it, and waited.

The bandages covering most of his head had restricted his jaw movement and caused his speech to be mumbled, but she could still understand him. He'd said, and Hiroshi had translated, "Your attack, four nights ago. It hurt me badly…"

Yes, there would be a death threat, she'd decided. Though it would be couched in terms of self-defense, of course.

"…but I forgive you."

…._what_?

"The others have told me, and I understand, that you thought I was attacking the hatchlings. It must have been so terrible, to see the poor children of your clan all dead. Indeed, if I thought someone was really going to kill children or hatchlings, I would attack them too!"

…._He… he_…

"The wounds are bad, it is true, but I will heal. Nothing has been done that can not be mended. And when I am well again, perhaps we can have tea together."

And Hiroshi had translated all that, or at least most of it. She wasn't sure about the last sentence, the invitation to tea, because by then she'd been sobbing so hard that she could hardly hear him.

How could he have forgiven her? She'd nearly _killed_ him! Humans weren't supposed to _**do**_ that, to forgive such things… she wasn't supposed to be forgiven!

It was just more kindness than she could stand.

She had no idea how long she'd just lay there on the bed, crying; long enough for Jiro to leave, at least. When she'd finally finished, she'd noticed that Hiroshi had left a box of tissues inside the cell door for her. And afterwards when he'd brought her dinner, all he'd said was that sometimes tears were necessary for healing.

The rest of that afternoon, evening and night had passed without event, or even comment within her hearing on what had happened during Jiro's visit. But elsewhere on the temple grounds, outside of her range of hearing, talk must have been buzzing indeed. She never found out whether Hiroshi had let something slip or whether it was Jiro's brother Nobuo who had spread the gossip about her breaking down in tears, but shortly before dawn Yama, Malaquita and Galena had approached her, Galena holding Malaquita by the hand and clutching her doll Carlotta to her chest.

All the hatchlings had been avoiding her since the attack; on those occasions when they were let out of the rookery to stretch their wings, they had given her a wide berth and some had even scrabbled behind the nearest rookery keeper if she glanced in their direction. Galena had regarded her with a trace of wariness in her features, but also with something like pity, as Yama told her that Galena had something to say to her.

Children of any species were the quickest to pick up new languages, and in the two weeks that they had been living in Ishimura Galena had picked up enough _Nihongo_ to get by with a hatchling's simple needs most of the time. So she'd said to Yama in halting _Nihongo_, "Tell her… I hear she cry, during day. Is sad… _big_ sad, she alone all day. I give her Carlotta, to hold during day so she not alone. But I want Carlotta back at night, please!" she'd finished anxiously, as she'd held Carlotta out in a clear gesture of offering.

Demona had just stared in mute shock at the doll, while Yama translated had all that into his own halting English. And he'd added, "Please, take doll for day. She try help, and it is…adults want hatchlings learn helping, sharing."

It was clear he'd meant that helpfulness and generosity were traits to be encouraged, not discouraged by refusal. But the idea was beyond laughable; it was pathetic. She was _**Demona**_! She'd fought in more battles than this hatchling had years, including years in the shell! And now she was expected to take comfort and solace from _a cloth doll_?!

But Malaquita and Yama had been watching her… and that shadow that had appeared over the courtyard looked like Sakaki's silhouette. As head rookery keeper and as Kai's mate, Sakaki would be sure to tell Kai of her actions. She'd instinctively known that the child's act of generosity had been turned into a test, and another part of her discipline.

She had crouched down to Galena's level and held her arms out for the doll, and as Galena put the doll in her arms, bowed her head and said "_Domo arigato_, Galena. Yama, tell her I will return it to her at sunset." And she'd carried the doll in the crook of her arm as she'd put away the broom she'd been using and went to the gatehouse for the morning change.

She'd fully intended to leave the doll there in the gatehouse for the day. Locked in stone sleep, no one in the clan would have been the wiser.

But she'd noticed as she put it on a shelf in the gatehouse that one of Carlotta's wings was beginning to come off, the stitching unraveling. Well, that had be fixed, of course, before someone thought _she'd_ mistreated the thing… which was why she'd taken it back to the jail with her, and asked Hiroshi to please borrow a needle and thread from somebody so she could fix it.

She'd had plenty of practice in sewing during her youth; the humans at Castle Wyvern had insisted that the gargoyles wear clothing, but never bothered to tailor anything to their forms, so hatchlings had often assisted rookery keepers in making clothes for the clan from the rags and scraps that the humans had given them. And she'd even sewn flesh together; tears in wing membranes that had occurred in accidents or battle had to be carefully sutured shut before sunrise, so the wing healed whole instead of ragged. Fixing the doll had been easy, really, and that was the only reason why she'd brought it with her for the day.

But she probably shouldn't have ad-libbed the next sunset, when returning the doll to Galena, that Carlotta had been good company indeed. Because the next dawn, Carlotta had brought her the doll again with a wide smile, and even given it a kiss before settling it into her arms. And after her transformation, when leaving the gatehouse with her wrists bound with that white ribbon, Hiroshi had matter-of-factly tucked the doll into the crook of her arm again, just as she'd carried it the day before.

Grown gargoyle warriors did _not_ play with dolls. Neither did billionaire businesswomen. But somehow keeping Carlotta during the day had become part of her routine. And now, two weeks later, here she was carefully combing out a tangle that had somehow appeared in Carlotta's horsehair mane…

Footsteps came closer to the jail cell, and she hurriedly tucked the doll into her bedding, out of sight before the person came into view. It was Mrs. Uematsu, the schoolteacher, here for her daily lessons in _Nihongo_. Today they were covering common business terms, at her request. She still kept an interest in Nightstone, after all…

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_Next: Red Manes_


	2. Red Manes

**Part 2: Red Manes**

That evening Demona went about her cleaning duties in relatively good spirits, buoyed by the news she'd been given. Dr. Nomura had made a point of visiting the temple after his conversation with Dr. Watanabe, the cosmetic surgery specialist that Dominique Destine had summoned from Tokyo to the village to have a look at Jiro. He'd made his report to Kai and Hiroshi together so the constable could translate for 'Di-Mono', who was progressing quite nicely in her _Nihongo_ lessons but couldn't be expected to understand more technical terms yet.

Dr. Watanabe had said that it would probably take two or three surgeries over a six-month period, but at the end of it Jiro should have virtually no visible scars as reminders of the attack. And it wouldn't cost Jiro's family a single yen, since 'Dominiko-san' had insisted on paying for it all, including transportation for Jiro and all his family to Tokyo and back—with tickets to the Tokyo Disneyland for his nephew and nieces thrown in for the first visit, since the family had never been there before.

The Sakaguchi family was so pleased with the offering that little Kikuko had reportedly said, in an overenthusiastic moment, that her uncle should get hurt more often. Kai and Hiroshi had chuckled along with Dr. Nomura when the doctor had passed on that little anecdote. Demona had managed to refrain from rolling her eyes until _after_ Hiroshi had considerately translated that for her; then she'd replied dryly that she would leave the next injuring of Jiro to someone else. But she couldn't help smiling just a little, and Kai had outright grinned.

That had been a good start to the evening, and even two hours later Demona was still in a good mood. She'd finished sweeping the gravel and was working on clearing out the latest batch of spiderwebs in the temple, when that itch on her left wing grew just too annoying to ignore.

It was a spot on the inner membrane, located right under the obi binding her wings closed, naturally. Untying the obi in order to flex her wings and scratch the itch was out of the question; not when she only had ten nights to go on her punishment, and no desire to add more nights to it for disobedience! But there just had to be a way to get at that damnable itch.

She finally plucked the longest straw from the broom she'd been wielding, and used a bit of twine to tie the straw to the tip of her tail, with six inches of straw pointing out. Then, craning to look over her shoulder, she carefully eased her tail-tip up under her wing and the obi. Just a little further, and she'd be able to scratch that itch… no, just a little to the left… up a bit more…

She'd almost gotten the itch scratched when a babble of young voices entered the temple; the hatchlings were coming in! For some reason, she was so embarrassed to be caught scratching an itch like that, she scurried behind one of the large statues of the gods to hide until the hatchlings left again. They never stayed in the temple long, anyway; when out of the rookery, they preferred the open air just as any hatchling naturally would.

But from what the rookery keeper Hisame was saying to the hatchlings as she ordered them to sit in a circle, it seemed that they were going to be in the temple for a while; they'd been temporarily kicked out of the rookery so the other keepers could clean up a terrible mess they'd made with their finger-paints. Hisame scolded them all soundly, finishing with "And when we find out who threw that last paint container at Sakaki, there will be even _more_ trouble for the offender! Sakaki likes her hair as it is, and does not appreciate someone trying to turn it as red as Sugi's!"

Demona couldn't see what happened next, but one of the hatchlings must have raised a hand, because Hisame said archly, "Yes, Happa? You have something to say about that incident?"

"No… but how come a red mane is so bad? Red skin isn't bad… is it?"

"No, of course not! There's nothing wrong with having red skin, or a red mane—if you're hatched with it!" Hisame added hastily.

"But it is bad; I heard old Jari say so!" Happa insisted. "After Di-mono attacked Jiro, he told Setsu that he knew it would happen, because a red mane is a sign of trouble coming!"

Hisame sighed, then said carefully, "Our honored elder Jari sometimes says things that are not meant for hatchlings to overhear. Eavesdropping is not honorable, Happa."

Happa apologized, but insisted on asking again, "Why did he say a red mane is a sign of trouble coming?"

"That is an old superstition… based on something that happened long ago, before even Jari was hatched. The destruction of the Yatsushiro Clan."

Hiding behind the statue, Demona froze, while feeling as if a dagger of ice had been shoved between her wings. Since coming to Ishimura, she'd been trying so hard not to think about them…

The hatchlings wanted to know more about this other clan, one they'd never heard of until now, and finally Hisame gave in. "Well I'm not the best person to ask about it; Morin's the chronicler and history teacher, and she could recite every last name and date if you asked her. But I know the basics of it, since it was taught to me in my gakusei years. I think I remember it pretty well, since I have the same name as one of the most important people in the story!"

Hisame settled into storytelling mode, and all the hatchlings crowded closer to listen, while Demona held her breath and strained her ears. She wondered how much the clan really knew about what had happened, and what they might know that she didn't.

Hisame began, "The Yatsushiro Clan lived on the island of Kyushu; that's another island to the south of Honshu, but still part of Nihon. They were as brave and bold a clan of warriors as any clan that ever lived, and the daimyos and shoguns of Kyushu, Shikoku and even southern Honshu often called upon the clan for warriors to fight alongside their samurai. The clan would send warriors to battle if they felt the cause was sufficiently honorable, and they were greatly respected in all the islands. And they were on good relations with this clan, who fought for the daimyos and shoguns in northern Honshu and Hokkaido; every other generation, they would send four warriors to the north to join our clan and we would send four warriors to the south, to intermingle and keep the clan ties strong.

(And to lower the risks of inbreeding in either clan, Demona thought to herself with a small wry smile. Not that anyone would have ever said so out loud, of course.)

"During the last such exchange, in… well, I don't remember the year, but it was sometime in the early nineteenth century and probably about five years before that breeding season, so the newcomers would have time to become proper clan members and choose mates before the breeding flights – one of the newcomers to this clan told us of a newcomer to _their _clan who hadn't come from ours; a _gaijin_ female with fiery red hair, and a fiery temper too.

"Once she had learned a little of the language, the female told them she'd come from a clan that had been betrayed and slaughtered in their sleep by humans, and she urged the Yatsushiro clan leader to immediately turn on the humans of their village and kill them before they could do the same. But at the time, she was ignored as being unbalanced, driven a little mad by her grief—and by loneliness, too; she'd evidently been alone for _over a year_ before she'd found the Yatsushiro clan.

(Over thirty years, Demona thought sadly to herself, remembering. Before finding the clan in Yatsushiro, it had been over thirty years since her all too brief and tragic encounter with Valjean and his clan in Paris…)

"The newcomers said the female had been causing trouble for their old clan, by being terribly rude and hostile towards the villagers, but their clan leader had been mostly able to make amends for her, and excused her by saying she was a traumatized gaijin who just didn't know how to behave properly yet, but would learn eventually. Everyone was sure that once she settled down and became more comfortable in her new home, she'd stop seeing betrayers under every roof and act like a normal gargoyle again. Our chronicler wrote it all down as they told it to him, and I think the clan leader back then even sent a letter down south to inquire about the female, to see if they wanted to send her up here if she was causing too much trouble, but that was about it. Then, eight years later, a rookery keeper from the Yatsushiro clan named Hisame showed up at our gates with torn wings, and a pushcart with two eggs in it.

"The rookery keeper said that nearly a year before, some more _gaijin_ humans had come to Kyushu, and one of them had announced loudly that he hated all gargoyles—called us all _demons_, really!—and he had come to find and kill the Empress of Demons, and any others he could find. Of course the clan was on their guard, and some of them wanted to challenge the _gaijin_ to combat immediately and kill him before he could harm any innocents. But the local _daimyo_ told them not to bother him, because the _gaijin_ had come with a trading party and he was under orders from the Emperor to let them trade unmolested.

"The clan leader asked their village friends to keep an eye on the _gaijin_, and to keep him away from their perches, and the villagers promised that they would. But less than six days later, during the day, the _gaijin_ set fire to the village! He set fire to wagons of hay and pitch and rolled them into the houses, until everything was aflame… and while the villagers were fighting the fire, he took some hired soldiers and smashed the clan while they slept! When a few villagers saw what he was doing and tried to stop him, he had the soldiers kill the villagers—even the little children! But the humans slowed the killers down enough that they didn't smash all the sleeping gargoyles before sunset, and Hisame and her mate woke up just as the soldiers were approaching.

"The rookery keeper's mate held off the soldiers long enough for her to go down inside the rookery and bar the main entrance. She heard him die, fighting honorably, as she uncovered a secret, emergency exit for herself and the eggs that had been lain two years before. She picked up two eggs and took them down the secret tunnel to hide them, but when she returned for the rest, the gaijin and his few remaining soldiers had broken down the door and were smashing eggs! Murdering innocent, defenseless eggs! She sprang on and killed the soldiers as well as the gaijin that had led them, but it was too late; the eggs were broken, dead, and all that was left of the clan were herself and the two eggs she'd saved. And in the fighting, her wings had been slashed; she could no longer glide. So she picked up the eggs and began walking north, to find our clan.

"A human named Kiro, one of the villagers who had survived the fire and the attack, found her and told her what had happened to them. Kiro found a pushcart they could put the eggs in, packed with straw to help keep them warm and safe, and walked with her for over a week, guarding her sleep during the day. But the day before they were to reach the port, where they could hire a ship to take them to Honshu, they were set upon by a traveling band of raiders, who were being chased by the local daimyo's samurai after raiding a nearby village. Kiro would not leave Hisame unguarded in her sleep, and he was killed by the bandits as they came down the road. But the delay the villager had caused was enough for the samurai to catch up with the band, and they slaughtered all the raiders, just before the rookery keeper woke up.

"When Daigoro, the leader of the samurai, found out why the gargoyle was traveling on foot and with a pushcart, he vowed that he would help her find our clan. He wrote a letter to his _daimyo_ on the spot, absenting himself from service for a full year; he said it was his destiny to help two innocent creatures travel across the entire empire in a pushcart, as he himself had traveled so in his infancy and childhood. And so Daigoro paid for their passage to Honshu, and walked with Hisame and the eggs all the way to the gates of our village. When they arrived, the clan leader wanted to reward the samurai for his selflessness, but he said Bushido demanded of him no less than he had done, and the honor was enough.

"The clan held a ceremony to mourn the shattered clan; then the eggs were added to the rookery, and Hisame took her place on our perches. I think our healer was able to repair her wings a little, enough that she could manage short glides around the temple, but I'm not sure; Morin would know, though. Anyway, when one of the eggs hatched a gargoyle with a mane as red as fire, the same color as that _gaijin_ gargoyle, the clan leader declared it was a sign from the gods, a warning, and from that night forth the gargoyles of Ishimura would live in secrecy; letting no outsider know of their existence, lest we and the village we protect suffer the same horrible fate as the Yatsushiro clan and their village. And that's how we've lived, to this very night; in secrecy, and safety."

Demona had sat in silence throughout the story, absorbing it all. New details of the Yatsushiro clan, to add to the ones she already had in her memory… Knowledge of the aftermath, of what had happened after the slaughter that she remembered all too well…

That 'gaijin human' had been one of the Hunters, having pursued her clear from Africa, following her trail long after any sane person would have declared it cold beyond pursuing. She'd had only seven years with the Yatsushiro clan; seven sweet years, in which she'd finally thought it safe to relax and feel part of a clan again… years in which she'd taken a mate, a young fellow who'd been utterly besotted with her red hair and _gaijin_ ways, though she'd never really felt more than affection for him. Affection, and not wanting to be so horribly _alone_ anymore, had been enough for her to let him put his arms and wings around her, and for her to let him chase her across the sky during the Breeding Moon.

And she'd bred well, laying a good-sized egg; the first egg she'd successfully laid in nearly eight centuries. During her pregnancy she'd virtually secluded herself, not letting any human see her at all; it had puzzled the clan greatly, but she just hadn't been able to tell them of the egg she'd lost before laying, when she'd been 'killed' during the slaughter of the Black Forest Clan five centuries before. Since it was normal for males to be over-protective of their mates while they were egg-heavy, the clan had eventually decided she was being extra-careful so her mate wouldn't have to worry, and commended her on her thoughtfulness.

She'd begun to be _happy_ there in Yatsushiro, gliding with the clan and frequently sneaking furtive peeks into the rookery. She'd begun to have _hope_, and that had made the arrival of the Hunter and the horrible slaughter all the more shattering…

She'd guessed as soon as she'd heard the gaijin's description that another cursed Hunter had arrived in Japan; guessed, and swore to kill him immediately before he could do any damage to her newfound clan, but had been thwarted by the well-meaning clan leader. He'd known of her enmity towards humans in general, and had his warriors keep an especially close eye on her until the gaijin was gone. Even so, she'd come up with a plan to elude her misguided watchers and destroy the Hunter before they could stop her, and had been planning to put it into effect the next night… but instead…

She didn't really remember the slaughter itself, as it had occurred in daylight. She only remembered the incredible _**PAIN**_, a pain too great for screaming, upon the next sunset; pain that had lasted until she'd fallen unconsciousness again. She supposed now that her shattered-and-scattered body had taken a full night and day to reconstitute, for her next clear memory had been of waking up the next sunset, whole in body but still shattered in spirit.

The Wyvern Clan, her Outcast Clan, the Black Forest Clan, the Paris Clan, and then the Yatsushiro Clan; she'd seen FIVE clans die around her, while she herself survived. Was it any wonder that sometimes over the centuries she'd gone a little mad with grief, pain and loneliness?

But now she knew what she hadn't known before: that the Yatsushiro villagers hadn't betrayed the gargoyles after all, but had been loyal to the end. Even two months ago she wouldn't have believed it of them, so sure that all humans were treacherous to the core, but now…

And now she knew something else she hadn't known before. That Angela was not her only blood-kin; that the egg she'd laid in Yatsushiro's rookery, the egg she'd furtively watched over, had survived after all. Had survived, and been brought to Ishimura, and presumably lived a full life here, safe from treachery. Survived, and mated, and bred… And now, with her bright red mane, sweet-natured Sugi was almost certainly a direct descendant of hers. A… a great-granddaughter? How many breeding seasons and generations had passed since then?

Demona suddenly felt very, very old.

**00oo00oo00oo00oo00oo00**

Next: Gestures 

Author's notes: Of the five slaughtered clans that Demona was remembering: the Paris Clan's demise was recounted in full in the TGS story "From the Heart", and summarized with two minor changes for fitting into my faniverse in "Kimberly's Ramblings 4". The demise of the Black Forest Clan was recounted in the History section of my guide, "Getting Biblical."

And yes, the character Daigoro in Hisame's story is derived from the classic manga "Lone Wolf and Cub." I read the first few issues of an English version of it that was published back in the 80's, before giving it up as just too violent for my tastes. Damn good writing, though. -KT


	3. Gestures

**Part 3: Gestures**

A few nights later, one hour after sunset, Demona watched curiously as the clan solemnly assembled on their perches ringing the courtyard, and as Kai took his customary place in the centermost perch wearing a heavy and ornate kimono, clearly his ceremonial robes.

Yama and Taiju had met her coming out of the courthouse after her nightly transformation, as usual, but Yama's face had been unexpectedly grim. After nearly a month of working hard at learning the language (which, for her, was really just a matter of refreshing her memory and learning what new words had been created or evolved over the last two centuries), she was expected to have learned enough to get by, just as Malaquita and Quarzo had. So Taiju had not asked Yama to translate for him, after binding her wings with the obi; he'd told her directly that the clan would be assembling soon for a ceremony, and when the time came she would perch far to one side of the clan (he pointed to where she would be) and just stay still and silent, no matter what happened.

She'd wondered what the ceremony would be about, and if it was related to Kai's meetings for the last two nights; she'd seen him meeting at midnight with the clan's scouts, but been too far away to overhear what they had been talking about. Whatever they had been talking about, she doubted it had been good news; the gesture the scouts had made most often had been shaking their heads.

After most of the clan had glided in from wherever they'd been and landed on their perches, she climbed up one courtyard wall and quietly took her place where Taiju had indicated; on the side of the courtyard where the youngest adult generation normally took their perches. A few minutes later, a trio of young females landed next to her; she recognized them as Mizuumi, Kaze and Sora.

Over the centuries Demona had become very good indeed at reading her fellow gargoyles' body language, even accounting for the ways gestures often varied from clan to clan. The gargoyles of this clan took after the humans they lived with in generally displaying minimal emotion while in public, but the signs were there for those who knew how to look for them. Sora's body was silently screaming reluctance and defiance; whatever was going to happen, she did _**not **_want to be here for it. Mizuumi and Kaze nonverbally alternated between giving her comfort and support, and urging her to buck up and take whatever was about to happen like an adult instead of a little hatchling. Then when Sora realized that 'Di-mono' was perched next to her usual spot, she was even more reluctant to be there. But Mizuumi and Kaze silently became even more stern with her, and Sora finally took her perch, then turned just enough towards Demona to greet her with cool politeness.

This was actually the first time Demona had been within two wingspans of Sora. She'd become aware about a week ago that the young female was actively avoiding her, and that when she thought Demona wasn't looking her expression was angry, even hateful. Demona had developed the sneaking suspicion that Sora and Jiro had the same sort of relationship that Goliath and that Maza bitch had, and that Sora vengefully wanted to take on 'Di-mono' herself for hurting her human lover, but been forbidden by Kai to lay a talon on 'the poor traumatized gaijin'.

A helpful breeze wafted in the right direction, and as quietly and unobtrusively as she could, Demona took a deep breath, filling her nostrils with Sora's scent. She half-dreaded what she expected to detect; a mated marker strangely altered from the usual scent, perverted by intimate contact with a wingless and tailless primate.

(Unbidden, a memory of Goliath's changed scent came to mind. While she'd been captive in the Labyrinth, she'd smelled the perverted marker on him and figured out what had caused it. The first night Goliath had spent as her jailer, as soon as Fang had started snoring she'd verbally ripped into him for being so disgusting as to soil his loins with that human bitch. Had he really become _that_ desperate; had he forgotten how to use his hands to satisfy his male urges? She'd offered to show him how it was done, if he'd only come a little closer to the cage bars, within reach of her hands… and since he'd refused to come closer, she'd proceeded to show him how females did it.

Goliath had refused to say a word in response to all her hissed words of condemnation, nor later words of enticement… but after she'd taken off her clothes, lay on the cot and pleasured herself with her tail right in front of him, he finally had something to say. He'd had a nice tent in his loincloth, just like Brooklyn had had the night before, but all he'd said with a smirk was "Elisa's performance is much more passionate. She even shouts my name, sometimes; you never did that."

And the perverted bastard had taken off his loincloth and pleasured himself, right in font of her… but with his eyes shut and murmuring the slut's name the whole while.

After that, the nights with him as her jailer had been grimly silent on both sides of the bars. She would never let on how much it had hurt to watch him make love to the spirit of a human, instead of to her.++)

But Sora's scent had no mated marker at all… which was something of a relief, but puzzling as well. If Sora didn't have any special relationship with poor Jiro, why did the youngster dislike her so much?

Demona finally decided that since the rest of the clan had been making efforts to befriend her even during her punishment, she should make some effort to befriend Sora in return. So she smiled at Sora and said in her supposedly limited _Nihongo_, "Taiju tell me perch here. Is… is good with you?"

Sora didn't answer immediately, but Mizuumi leaned towards her and said with a smile, "Is very good with us! You can perch here as often as you like." She continued, speaking slowly and clearly for 'Di-Mono's benefit, "Only one week left before Taiju takes that obi off for good! Afterwards, do you want to go gliding together, and hunt rabbits in the forest? …Do you know what rabbits are?"

Demona grinned as she nodded. "Rabbits!" as she mimed a hopping rabbit with her hands. "We have them in America too. Yes, we hunt together!" It was the first time anyone had invited her to hunt with them in far, far too long!

But she put her sheer delight aside, in favor of curiosity. Since Mizuumi, at least, was in a talkative mood, she asked, "This… ceremony… who is it for? What will happen?"

Mizuumi lost her smile as both she and Kaze looked uneasy… while Sora went completely expressionless, and rigid as stone. Mizuumi finally answered, "This ceremony is… for Botan. You have not met him, he left before you arrived. Botan is… was… was, and just might still be, a very dishonorable gargoyle. He…" she glanced at Sora, then turned back to Demona and continued, "he lied, he cheated, he stole… and finally he was caught in his lies and cheating and stealing, caught so firmly he couldn't use his silver tongue to talk his way out of it, and Kai banished him for two full moons. Tonight, that time of banishment is done, and he will… be welcomed back to the clan, if he returns."

"_**If**_ he returns," Kaze added. "I heard that the scouts Kai sent looking for him for the last two nights, to let him know that his time was nearly up, didn't find a trace of him."

"He's out there waiting," Mizuumi said grimly as she turned to face the courtyard. "Like I've said before, he's too shameless to even consider _seppuku_ and too perverted to die of sheer solitude. He'll be back…"

From other facial expressions and body language she saw, and faint mutterings that the wind brought to her from nearby perches, Demona got the impression that few gargoyles in the clan were really ready to welcome this Botan back. But his time of banishment was up, so they would hold the ceremony of welcome for him; it was the custom, the traditional gesture. And at least one elder was heard to say, a bit too loudly (as if trying to convince himself as well as others) that surely Botan had learned his lesson by now, and would return a changed gargoyle. Surely he would…

Kai snapped his wings out to their fullest extent—a universal gesture among gargoyles, the leader ordering his clan to shut up and pay attention—then carefully refurled his wings and crouched into a waiting pose, as everyone else silently faced forward and did the same. Then he made a hand gesture to the two villagers waiting by the gates, and they swung the heavy doors wide open. Then they waited…

And waited….

And waited…

And waited…

And finally, after nearly two hours of waiting, Kai shook his head, muttered something to Taiju and leaped off his perch to glide away. Everyone took that as the signal to vacate their perches as well, flexing their wings and even chattering like magpies after being still and silent for so long.

Taiju bellowed loud enough to be heard over the noise, "Let's not waste good food!" as he pointed at the feast that had been laid out on tables to one side of the temple.

Demona's stomach had been growling for the last hour, and she was more than happy to climb down from her perch and cross the courtyard to the waiting food. She overheard snatches of conversation as she passed other gargoyles; most of them were speculating about why Botan hadn't come back to the clan.

"--_dead, for certain. I told you that pile of gravel I found out there wasn't just from Yama tidying up his favorite_--"

"--_gone to Tokyo, to join the Yakuza. He'd fit right in with_--"

"--_a boat to America, to find Goliath's clan. Maybe he'll make a new and better life_--"

"--_tomorrow or the next night, you'll see. Not because he forgot when his punishment's over, but because he wants to come back when we're __**not**__ ready for him, and_--"

Alerted by the sound of wind in his wings, Demona looked up just as Yama backwinged to a soft landing next to her. He smiled and said in English as he walked with her, "Taiju said that tonight, your only task is to help clean up after feast. And best way to begin, is to help eat it! Yes?"

"Yes, indeed! _Sugoi_!" Demona said with a smile, using a modern phrase she'd heard the hatchlings say when especially pleased. He grinned wider and nodded approval at her choice of words in Nihongo… then stopped and flung a wing out in front of her, stopping her in her tracks.

And not a moment too soon; she was almost run over by a stampede of hatchlings, charging for the feast tables with their rookery keepers running and shouting after them. "Hatchlings _**very**_ hungry, so hungry they forget manners," Yama said to her apologetically, once he could be heard above the noise.

"Hatchlings are the same all over the world," Demona assured him with a smile. "Shall we dive in and get something to eat before they leave us only the bones?"

The End… _for now_

Another Author's Note: For those of you wondering if I've completely forgotten the proper episode sequence for the series, and put "The Reckoning" after "The Journey" or something:

No, Goliath and Elisa did not become mates until a couple months after the events of "The Reckoning." However, by that time Goliath had been sporting a bonded scent marker for nearly a year. It's extremely rare for gargoyles to become bonded enough for altered scent markers without actually mating. However, in G&E's case, it happened. Partly because, by the time of the events of "High Noon" they were already deeply in love with each other, even if neither was ready to admit it—well, Goliath was, but Elisa wasn't, and he respected that. And partly because of something Elisa did one day in the clocktower while Goliath was sleeping… one of these days I'll have to write about that.

As for whether Goliath was purely bluffing about Elisa's 'performance', or whether he'd witnessed something through Elisa's windows… I'll leave that for the reader to decide. ;-)

-KT


End file.
